


memento.

by orphan_account



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Grief, No Apocalypse, a brief mention of Pete/Carlos if you squint, loss of a spouse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 16:27:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13368627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Cariño,” she’d sigh and then touch his cheek. If he thinks hard enough, he can remember the warmth of her palm against his stubbled jawline, and how tender her thumb was rubbing away at his cheek. “It’s okay. You know I love an object with character.”





	memento.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t written or posted something serious in more than half a year, but a friend sent me a prompt and I couldn’t resist. Special thanks to all of my friends for helping me get through this writing block in one piece!!

It’s an old, rickety thing. Held together by numerous colorful bandaids and hot glue. Crafty. He’d always offer to buy her a new pair, but she’d wave away the offer and smile warmly up at him.  
“ _Cariño_ ,” she’d sigh and then touch his cheek. If he thinks hard enough, he can remember the warmth of her palm against his stubbled jawline, and how tender her thumb was rubbing away at his cheek. “It’s okay. You know I love an object with character.”  
And he’d always try to argue, but—when he did—she’d silence him with a gentle finger to his lips.  
“ _Sin peros, Carlitos_.”  
She wasn’t the type to accept help, though he wishes to this day that she was. Maybe she’d be here with him still, wearing the glasses instead of him carrying them around as a way to remember her.  
The bridge of it had snapped not too long ago though—on a cold, snow dusted afternoon as Carlos drove to pick Sarah up from Peter Randall’s ranch. He wished he could’ve seen it sooner. How the metal of it was bent so subtly—the years of mishandling were surely to blame—that he hadn’t noticed the weakness of it until it was too late.  
But, like all the things she left behind, he carries them close to his chest. No matter how brittle, battered, or broken they’d become. He tucks the split pair of glasses into his flannel pocket—making sure to button it closed before he leaves his cold room that morning—and makes his way out to get Sarah dressed for her first day of kindergarten.  
As he dresses her and hurries about to get her ready—he thinks back to something Sarah’s mother said moments before she drifted off to sleep and never woke up again.  
“You see this?” He remembers tearily watching as she slipped off her beaten down glasses—held together by childish bandages and a little too much hot glue—and placed it in his shaking palms. “It’s a piece of me, see? My love is in it, as it is with you and Sarah.”  
She closed his hand over it.  
“Keep it, _Cariño_. So... even when we’re apart, you’ll know that I’ll always be with you, _Carlitos_...” And, as she turned her head to look at their daughter sleeping nearby in her car seat, she added, “with _both_ of you.”  
He still wonders if the mementos that she left in his possession had any connection to her soul anymore. Could she see how far their daughter had come? Know the hardships they had faced in her absence? Feel the chill of his room every morning without her there?  
He can only hope that she can.  
Pete joins him that morning when he takes Sarah to her classroom and leaves her by herself in the care of kind faced strangers. He lingers, hand placed to his chest—right where the glasses are—fingers trembling because this will be the first time he leaves Sarah alone like this. Pete pats his shoulder, even offers it a reassuring squeeze as they head down the hall and out of the school.  
“She’ll be fine, Carlos.” The elder smiles so warmly, like sunlight. “That girl’s a lot more stronger than you think she is. She’ll be alright.”  
“I know, I know.” Carlos replies, though tiredly. “You can’t blame me for having my worries though.”  
“Course’ not.” When they get far enough from the school, Pete pulls out a box of cigarettes and a lighter. “Mind if I take a smoke break before we head out?”  
Carlos let’s out a curt laugh and tells him that he doesn’t have to ask, but he’s glad he did. Pete seems to know that Carlos isn’t fond of smoke, or—at least—he’s courteous enough to ask everyone he encounters if he can smoke somewhere other than directly besides them in a car.  
He loves that about Pete—how considerate and kind he is—but it’s not something Carlos will ever admit.  
When he gets into the car, he pulls out the glasses and sighs to himself.  
Being so close to his chest, he wonders if she can tell his heart is beginning to move on. Move on from the grief, the pain, the heartache. The loss. He wonders if she’d forgive him for loving someone other than her.  
Pete enters the car once his cigarette burns out, starting the engine and glancing over towards the other man.  
“Huh,” He remarks softly. “Didn’t know you wore glasses.”  
“Mm? No.” He stares down at them for a moment too long, soon smiling and tucking them back into his flannel pocket. “I don’t wear them. They’re... someone else’s.”  
“Ah...” Pete chuckles. “Well, they’re mighty cute, if you ask me. Got a whole lot of _character_ to them.”  
He smooths his hand over his chest. “ _They do_.” He sighs out. “ _They do_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
